


A Flawless Ending

by r4nnie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bottom Draco Malfoy, Draco Malfoy Loves Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy-centric, Everything is Beautiful and Everything Hurts, Homophobic Language, Homophobic Lucius Malfoy, How Do I Tag, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Might not make sense I wrote it in one go, Non-Linear Narrative, Not Beta Read, Short One Shot, Slice of Life, everything being draco
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-17
Updated: 2021-01-17
Packaged: 2021-03-15 18:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,188
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28817712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/r4nnie/pseuds/r4nnie
Summary: Because Draco was beautiful, even if he wasn't meant to be, even if his Father had spent his entire life berating him for it.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 10
Kudos: 169





	A Flawless Ending

"Draco you're so beautiful."

It's all wrong.

He's not beautiful. He's handsome. He's manly and strong and not fragile or weak or small. Not small so that two big, strong, calloused hands can wrap around his lithe, pale waist in a firm, easy grip.

Not weak so that he can be pulled and pushed and grabbed and shoved wherever it was pleased of him to be.

Not fragile so that the arch of his back exposed the column of his throat, gorgeous against the plush sheets, as he gasped for air, pink lips parted, completely and utterly surrended.

Not beautiful so that the golden sunlight that drifted through the parted curtains in the very late moments of dusk enunciated his every curve, the softness of his lips, his spent body.

Not at all.

Draco was endlessly spoilt. Every possible thing he could ever need to excel or live a prosperous life was at his very feet courtesy of his dad.

From as young as he can remember, he was indulged in whatever he wished, whenever he wished. House elves practically lived bent at his feet, awaiting any command he was to make.

He had a nanny even though his own Mother didn't work. Narcissa would brush his hair and caress his cheek and love him so dearly as any Mother should when his Father worked and then when the day would draw to an end, Draco would stiffen his back, sit up straight and await his Father's arrival. Narcissa would retreat and Draco's nanny, a woman he never even bothered learning the name of, would come to his beck and call.

Lucius wasn't the worst dad Draco could ask for. He provided for him, mostly spoke civilly to him, never, not really, rose a hand against him. Bar some occasional mishaps, they were perfectly fine. And really, Draco deserved the rare occasions.

Draco got his first slap when he was 8. He'd stared at a boy for too long, dreamt of holding hands and laughing under the apple tree in their back garden. Draco was stupid for believing dreams were anything but. And he had asked the boy one day tentatively, with as much childish innocence as one could have, if he would like to hold hands.

The very next day, Lucius was having a clipped conversation with the boy's father about an outrageous comment Draco had supposedly made and Draco not only lost his only friend that night but also nursed a sore cheek and a buzzing headache and a broken heart.

Draco learnt he was gay when he was 12. He had Blaise Zabini to thank for that. His first crush. Blaise was everything Draco was not and Draco was too honest with himself to admit he was anything but gay.

He had heard the hushed conversations Lucius would have with his wife about how their son could have been a poof. Draco had solemnly ordered his nanny to tell him the meaning of the word and what it meant for him and so she did, most likely out of pity. Draco had minutely nodded and dismissed her. He had figured it out himself anyways beforehand, he just needed someone to confirm it for him.

Draco fell deeply head over heels in love with Harry Potter when he was 14 and hated himself so much for it, he stopped being honest with himself. He had been hiding behind the rouse of being an awful person for far too long to change and he knew it made his Father happy to know his son was giving snark and biting back rather than shying away. And so he doused himself irrevocably in the persona and even somehow along the way managed to convince himself he really did despise Potter and that he was on the right side of the war, doing the things he had to do.

Of course, he was wrong. He had known it from the moment the war had started, deep down, that they were on the wrong side. But it had been too late, the war was over, Draco was hidden in Malfoy Manor with Narcissa, his father instantly sent to Azkaban for life, as they awaited the trail that Harry was to speak at.

Draco's heart had pounded so fiercely when he had stood at the wizengamot. But then he met Harry's eye as Harry testified for him and he felt like breaking. He felt like breaking down years and years of self hatred and denial and screaming just how in love he was but he didn't deserve this, he didn't deserve Harry. He didn't in the slightest.

But when a month later Draco ran into Harry at Hogsmeade, he did end up breaking down, appalled at himself as he apologised through his tears. Harry had looked like a deer caught in headlights and somehow, _somehow_ , somewhere along the way from that meeting to now, Draco had fallen even more in love.

He was just so, so lucky that Harry was stupid enough to fall in love with him back.

Draco begged so beautifully. So sweetly.

Soft, breathless please's in a high pitched, whiny voice, so unabashed. Moans slipping through and cutting him off halfway, tears tracing the apple of his cheeks, rosy red and stained. Breath caught in his throat, dragged away from him with every hit, every thrust, every touch.

Begging's a strange thing. Draco's done it thrice in his life. To three very different kinds of men in three very different situations. He'd beg his father to stop, when he was ruthless and stressed from work and would shout and scream at how useless his son turned out to be.

He'd beg the dark lord for mercy when he would be called forth to him. That was Draco's least favourite time of his life. The cruciatus curse, it seemed, hurt more when you felt like you deserved it.

But begging to Harry. Begging to Harry was wonderful. Harry complimented him so kindly, called him sweet and good and lovely and everything nice. Everything he didn't deserve and he'd beg for more because it just felt so good and Harry would give it. Would give him everything if he asked.

Draco's loved Harry since he was 14 and he'd love him to the end of his life. He'd beg for him, surrender himself and be beautiful for him. Lay pretty and pliant and soft and content in his arms. Because Draco was beautiful, even if he wasn't meant to be, even if his Father had spent his entire life berating him for it.

Draco would be anything Harry wanted and if it just so happened that Harry wanted Draco as himself, then Draco would be perfect at being himself for him.

He would be the most perfect version of himself and he would make Harry happy to the end of times.

And it's with that in mind, that he settled back against their sheets, Harry between his legs, draped over him, staring at him as if though he hung the moon in the skies and he whispered back,

"Yes, I am."

**Author's Note:**

> title from so beautiful by dpr ian


End file.
